


I feel you behind my eyes (you've gotten into my bloodstream)

by Cerian



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Angst, Drug Use, F/M, PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-14
Updated: 2012-07-14
Packaged: 2017-11-09 22:56:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/459414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerian/pseuds/Cerian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I'm so happy with you, Ron, darling, baby, Hermione tells him, arms draped around his shoulders, and kisses him, her mouth tasting of wine and cherries and blood and love and pretty white clean pills.</p>
<p>She takes them every day now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I feel you behind my eyes (you've gotten into my bloodstream)

**Author's Note:**

> This is my AU take on what happened to Ron and Hermione after the final battle of Hogwarts. It is slightly OOC, but that's because my take on Ron and Hermione is much much darker. I also recommend reading this twice. Once in the original format, and then by the indicated numbers as it perhaps will make more sense. English is not my first-language, mistakes will happen. Forgive them. Thank you.

**thirty six.**

_Hermione, Hermione, Hermione,_ he breathes, eyes closed and the sun behind them.  He doesn’t say _I love you_ , or something similar, just her name, as prayers.

Each time he takes another pill – pretty and clean and so brilliantly white – he forms her name around it, and swallows until it fills his empty stomach (heart).

_Hermione, Hermione, Hermione._

**two.**

 

Suddenly, it's all over. Voldermort is gone gone gone, and he won't be coming back.

(And _Merlin,_ neither is Fred – but he doesn’t think about that, the pain is too sharp and clear and _it stings._ )

 

 

 

**six.**

 

Her fingernails claws his scalp, as she strokes his hair. _We should go,_ she says and smiles in ways he hasn’t seen before, her fingers digging heavily into his hair, and he nods, says _yeah, sure._

**four.**

_We're going to be alright,_ is what he wants to thinks, as Molly smiles and severs the waiting guests, and everyone is a bit off balance, the firewhisky swirling about the room.

But he sees Harry standing in the corner, knuckles white around Ginnys hand, and Hermione mouth is set in a hard line, her eyes too shiny from something other than alcohol.

_We'll fall in the end,_ is what he means.

**five.**

He's in her room, and it's unbelievable, but he has to believe, because he's moving in with her now – her parents long ago told her they wouldn't come back.

_I'm so lonely Ron,_ she told him, doe-eyes shiny in an odd way.

_Yeah, sure,_ he said, and it was all set in stone the day after, his belonging scatters about her home.

 

 

 

**seven.**

 

The music is loud and blaring, and where ever he goes, there are dancing bodies surrounding him, and his head swims – he reaches out his hand as he spots Hermione, and she beckons him over to the table, gives him a slight kiss when he does so, and says here, _take these, they're really lovely_ hand holding out what seems to be pills.

He agrees, _they're lovely._

**twenty nine.**

 

They disintegrate slowly, beautifully and nobody notices. Not even themselves.

_We'll be fine now._ He says, her heartbeat drumming in his ear, head on her chest. _Yes,_ she answers him. _I love you,_ she adds.

_Me too,_ he answers, hand grasping for hers, the music floating about the room.

**eleven.**

 

_Suddenly all the years of longing is fulfilled, and he feels her warmth and the sensation is burning and Hermione moans his name ronronron and he pulls her down, kisses her hard and the floor is cold against his back, she pulls away from his lips, hips forming movement and he refuses to close his eyes, says you're brilliant, 'Mione, takes is all in – the sunset biding a halo around her frame, her walls clenching around him._

**twenty eight.**

 

_Even dying?_

_Yes._

_Why?_

_Because I love you._

It's a faded smile, one of the real ones, but slowly withering away.

**fifteen.**

 

 

_Look,_ she says, _I bought this for us,_ and he takes notice of the large, black camera in her hands.

_Don't look normal, like the wizards ones,_ he laughs and she smiles quietly, _different worlds,_ and snaps a picture of him, the afternoon sun in his hair.

 

 

**twenty five.**

 

_I do anything for you._

_How about dying?_

_Even that._

_Really?_

_Yes,_ he answers. It's the truth.

**three.**

Outside, it's gorgeous weather.  The sun shines merciless away, blinding them all with its brightness, but in the end it doesn't help because his mother's tears are creating an ocean of rain, and Ginny sits between them, murmuring _Fred no no no please Fred no, oh Merlin help me –_

His throat aches painfully and he gasps and gaps, trying to swallow the air, because he just can't seem to breathe right –  Hermione's hand finds his, and she looks straight forward, grasp tight, as if he's next to go.

**nineteen.**

_I love you too,_ he adds after a heartbeat.

Hermione smiles at him, not one of those new smiles he doesn’t recognize or the quiet ones he isn't used to, but a real smile, the one he hasn't seen after the war, and it makes his heart feel so much lighter than it has in so long.

**nine.**

Two months, and they sell the house, buy a flat, one floor with one bedroom and a massive living room, where they don't put any tables or chair, just a huge mattress and several permanent markers laying around, with stacks and stacks of Muggle magazines.

_This will fix us, Ron, Hermione smiled, twirled around the room, arms thrown in the air, Mudblood scarring her skin._

**twenty one.**

They really do create their own world in that flat. Sometimes they spends hours on working on Hermione's ideas for collages. Mostly she only wants to put pictures of him, but he insist that he needs some of hers as well and suddenly it turns to a different project. Everything they can find, in the stacks upon stacks of the magazines, they cut out and hang up, soon it all becomes vividly colorful, strange shapes and images over all, a disco ball casting shadows of red and green and blue over the walls.

It's their world and it's surreal. It's beautiful.

**eight.**

 

They're walking down the London streets, four in the morning, the sun barely out. Hermione is holding his hand, and laughing like he hasn't seen her do in so long.

_I'm so high,_ she smiles, showing her teeth, and _I don't ever want to get back down._

He smiles with her, _We won't baby, we won't._

**twenty six.**

 

_Ron, please please oh god Ron please help me_ Hermione cries and trembles and trembles on the floor, entire body shaking. _Please stop,_ she begs, hand gripping tight on her own arm, _Mudblood_ glistening from sweat.

He holds her close, it's all he can do.

 

 

**one.**

(Here's the thing: it's difficult to be happy without some help. So she buys the pills and next comes the alcohol and then the parties, and she and Ron become Gods among their circle, never sleeping, never tiring, always a constant stream of _pill pill party alcohol sex party pill_  and it's wonderful.)

They forget the war and it's so lovely, they're so happy.

**thirty five.**

They don't notice when he slips away, the crowd too big. He appareates to the top of their rooftop on their flat, the afternoon sun casting shadows at his feet.

**thirteen.**

_I'm so happy with you, Ron, darling, baby_ , Hermione tells him, arms draped around his shoulders, and kisses him, her mouth tasting of wine and cherries and blood and love and pretty white clean pills.

She takes them every day now.

 

 

 

 

**zero.**

 

 

The war is over and she looks at her hands, _they're empty. I have nothing left now, s_ he thinks, and traces the _Mudblood_ a delicate, female writing etched into her skin.

_(crucio, crucio, CRUCIO Bellatrix screams, and she pleads, I don't know, oh God please, I don't know, I don't – CRUCIO!)_

She gasps, breathing hard, her body trembles, and it feels like she's losing it, but _no no no,_ she'll save them all, herself and Ron and Harry and forget everything and be happy.

She'll make Ron so happy, she'll make herself happy with him.

_Until they break down, because nothing lasts forever. Especially not happiness._

**thirty one.**

 

It's Harry brilliant green eyes that he sees first when he wakes up, and his entire body aches and aches, and he tries to sit up, but Harry pushes him down, and suddenly George hands are there too, and he hears his mother voice say _be gentle_ and looks up, Charlie, Bill, Percy, Ginny, his dad and his mum are all watching him, and he doesn’t know how he feels.

 

 

 

**twenty four.**

 

They're drunk and lost in the London city, Hermion's high and the sun is about to get up, and they go to the rooftop, standing on the edge she says _this used to be my world,_ a _nd then Hogwarts was and now, now I don't know anymore, but that's not a good enough answer is it?_ tracing her scar, _l_ _et's go to another world, Ron. The one we visit each night, but never remain permanently in when we wake up._

_Tell me,_ he says, ready, _how do we remain forever?_

 

 

 

**ten.**

 

It's bright morning, and the coffee machine is on.

_Baby,_ Hermione smiles, yesterdays glitter on her face, and he smiles with her, takes her  hand into his.

_What you're doing_ he asks,and looks around the room. The off-white walls are covered by several pictures she's cut off from the magazines, and her hands have spots of black, and he's sees that she's used the permanent markers, written _I love you I love you I love you till death do us apart_ on the walls.

_Hermione,_ he frowns, _what – what is this?_

_It'll be so lovely, darling, just wait and see,_ she kisses him, pulls him down on the mattress, her hand in his boxers, stroking gently.

 

 

 

**thirty.**

Somebody tumbles in and another one follows and after that all he hears is screams, but he can't move, can't move at all because the darkness is edging in on him and Hermione said they do this together, and he won't ruin this. He won't, hand gripping hers tightly, head on her chest.

 

 

 

**twelve.**

 

 

_Let's not go to any more parties, okay?_ He tells her, when she's deciding which shoes to wear.

She turns around and looks at him, edges close and fingers his hair, _okay,_ she says, _okay, but only this last one, yeah?_

_Yeah, sure,_ he answers.

**twenty three.**

 

They're steadily being addicted, and it feels wonderful –  the world blurring in colors, music bouncing off the walls, their bodies slick with sweat from dancing, they become alive, and they breathe, breathe like there's no tomorrow, like it's the end of the world and they've entered somewhere beyond their imaginations, their high taking them another level up, it all feel so brilliant, so very fucking brilliant, like hasn't even before the war.

 

 

 

**fourteen.**

 

 

They're walking around a Muggle park, and it's cold outside, the frost biting and he kicks some snow after Hermione and she turns sharply, glares at him

_  
what the hell, Ron?_

_You lied,_ he ignores her question

_About what, Ron?_

_You aren't happy with me 'Mione, not anymore_

Her hands finds his face, she kisses every inch of it, _of course I am baby, of course I am_

_It's the pills,_ he says, in a voice that’s new to him

_no,_ she says solemnly, _you'll see, Ron, you'll see_

 

 

**eighteen.**

 

_This is our world and we created it,_ Hermione says, her hair wild and skin pale.

_It's a world you created of me,_ he contradicts her and looks around the bedroom, sees pictures upon pictures, non-moving of himself. It covers all the four walls.

_Because you are my world,_ Hermione responses, holding his hand and flicks out her wand, a carpet falling from the roof, and he looks up and sees himself beneath sheets, hair plastered to his forehead, afterglow still on his cheeks and chest.

_You see how much I love you now,Ron?_ Hermione whispers, voice strained.

_Yeah,_ he says, _yeah,_ because there isn't anything else to say.

 

 

 

**sixteen.**

 

She snaps picture after picture of every inch of skin he revels, accidentally or not.

Morning, night, dawn, day no matter time and place the camera is in her hands and she takes picture after picture, and he asks her when it will be enough

_never, Ron. It'll never be enough_ and snaps another picture, him halfway tugging down his shirt, looking in the mirror, the reflection showing his bare stomach.

 

 

**twenty.**

 

 

He hides his face in the hollow of her neck as he enters her warmth, and breathes harshly, feels her legs wrapping around him, fingernails clawing their way into his shoulders.

_You're all I need, s_ he whispers into his ear.

_I'm yours, I’m yours, I'm yours,_ he repeats, nerves on fire.

**thirty three.**

 

He wakes up in the middle of the night, and everything comes crashing down on him, memory after memory swirling behind his eyelids

_her hand reached out towards him, they're lovely –  we'll be together for ever, she smiles – beaming, she says you're my world – we won't let the outside in anymore, she says quietly – she's pushing herself up and down on him murmuring ronronron and the sun shapes a halo around her frame – I love you, she says, holds his hand –_

_(Would you die for me? She asked._

_Yes._

_With me?_

_'Mione, don't.)_

Yes, yes yes yes, he thinks now. For you and with you and everything. You're my world too.

 

 

 

**seventeen.**

They're sitting on the mattress, the curtains closed and no lights on. He can barely see her face, her hand tucked firmly in his.

_I won't let the outside world in any more._ Hermione says, her voice echoing in the dark room.

_Most days, I don't understand you. This is one of them,_ he answers.

_I'll show you then._ And he can't see her smile in the dark. But it's there and that's what matters.

 

 

**twenty two.**

They toss away everything in their hands, finally done, and throw themselves on the mattress at the same time, and she almost breaks his nose and he laughs.

_Sorry,_ she says sheepishly.

_It's okay. You can break every bone in my body and I won't be mad._

_Yeah,_ she quirks a eyebrow.

_Yeah,_ he nods, and watches in the corner of his eye as she pulls something beside the mattress.

_Here,_ she says, handing him a joint.

_We don't need those things, 'Mione,_ he says, and takes the joint anyway, rolls it between his fingers and then his lips. She lights it up for him.

_No, but we need fun,_ is the reply.

 

 

 

**twenty seven.**

 

They're sitting on the mattress, back to back and pass the joint between them.

_I thought,_ she beings and stops, takes the joint and huffs deeply, _I foolishly thought this would be enough._

_You've always striven for more, haven’t you?_ He sighs tiredly, no hint of accusation in his voice.

_I'm sorry,_ she says.

_Don't,_ he says, _s'not your fault, not your fault, but everybody elses who put the world biggest responsibility on three fuckings teenagers and expected them to be fuckings okay.  But we're not, are we?,_ he hiccups and she turns around, holds him around his waist and says _I can fix this, baby, I can fix this Ron, just let me._

 

**thirty two.**

_What,_ he tries to ask, throat dry, _water,_ he sighs instead and Bill strides over to the bed, cups his head and lifts the glass to his lips, making sure he get's enough.

_What happened?_

_You tried to kill yourself._ Harry states calmly, and doesn't look him in the eye, _but you didn't succeed._ He pauses, eyes flickering over his face, _Hermione did. Her funeral will be in two days’ time._

Suddenly it's like he can't breathe, and he heaves and heaves for air, and sits up to get out of the bed, but hands push him down, and he screams and yells, _let me go let me go, I need to go to her, let me go!_ He struggles frantically, the hands pushing down harder .

 

 

**thirty four.**

 

Her funeral is different than Fred's _(they tried to be happy, and shot up fireworks, red blue green orange purple and white lighting up the sky)._ It's more silent, and Harry is holding his hand so hard that he thinks it will break. Hermione hands weren't that strong. Somewhere along the line, she lost her strength, he supposes.

They all did.


End file.
